Soulless
by Apolla2
Summary: I have a heart, I have a soul, and yes, you stereotyping gits, I want love more than you could ever know. My name is Pansy Parkinson, and I want the love of someone I can’t have. Read, review, enjoy.
1. I've got something to announce

A/N: This is very different from anything I've written before, so a bit of feedback would be fantastic. I have a certain love for reviews so if you read it, drop me a little something! Read, Review, Enjoy!  
  
Soulless  
  
I have a heart, I have a soul, and yes, you stereotyping bastards I want love more than you could ever know. My name is Pansy Parkinson, and I want the love of someone I can't have.  
  
It's easy to say that now. For some time I was in denial. No, there was no intervention, just a settling of emotions, like dissipating waves in The Channel. It's not gone, no, not by a long shot. There is still the longing to touch him and the pang in my heart when he looks at me with those steel gray eyes, but I know there's nothing behind those eyes. Before you go wondering what I'm rambling on about, let me lay it out for you.  
  
I'm a Parkinson, of the Derbyshire Parkinson's. I am the soul heiress to a flourishing business in- er- well let's call it over-seas banking, my mother was the winner of the 79' Miss Britain contest (and almost won Miss World, but due to an investigation in the deaths of Miss Costa Rica and Miss U.S.A. they were forced to close the competition), and the Parkinson line is a keystone in the interlocking destinies of the pure-blooded world. So, needless to say, I don't suffer from any insecurity issues. If I want it, I get it. If I need it, it's put on an express owl. So I am not purely playing the angst filled teen with confidence issues. When I say I can't have Draco Malfoy, I don't mean in the body. I could have shared bed with him for the past four summers if I had wanted that. No, I want his mind. In a soul mate I want just that, a soul shared with me. As I said, I am not heartless. I'm just not signing up for the next Gryffindor mixer.  
  
You must be wondering why a girl of my stature can't ensnare this boy. If the witless princesses of lore can be caught by a dragon, surely a tempting witch can catch her own. I've had help; believe me. Contrary to popular belief, a Slytherin woman's virginity is not sold at her birth. She is only cautioned, tempted, bribed, and, in the more extreme cases, put under enchantments to affect her behavior, so that she chooses "the right" man. (Love potions may be illegal, but behind the thick walls of mansions, who has to know?) My "Mr. Right" has always been Draco and from the first, I was far from apposed, but then things happened. I noticed certain behavior and certain tell tails of only one ailment. Draco Malfoy was soulless.  
  
If you think that I'm overreacting; have the last few paragraphs taught you nothing? I am no normal teenager.  
  
~~~ 


	2. Who is this guy?

~~~  
  
The Welcome back ball. This swaree was nothing to take notice of, and if it wasn't being held at my house, trust me; I would have slit my wrists just for a decent excuse not to go. The ball was a lame reason to get the pureblood couples together and for parents to discreetly gloat about recent business deals and their son or daughter being prefect, head girl, getting such and such many O.W.L.s, or being particularly doted on by their instructor of so and so. Really, the bore of the century.  
  
Black and green were, of course, the chosen color of the evening, so my mother and I coordinated a more shocking arrangement. Competitiveness ran through the family and even if I loathed being there, I was determined to be second to none.  
  
Scarlet, though a color shown on the Gryffindor insignia it was still the color of blood, therefore still acceptable. So I used it to the highest of it's ability. I dyed my hair black, with scarlet ties and roses in my hair. This was not a stretch for my dark, coarse, brown hair, but the complete darkness of it all bought out my dark, almost black eyes. Add pale skin and a corseted dress with all the colors of a scorched, blood covered battlefield. I was not going to resemble an angel, but a goddess of war.  
  
It rained that day; it was like a mirror of my feelings. It was the end of sixth year and I had finally come to grips with the fact Draco could never love me. In fifth year he was a adolescent full of life. He was exactly the man I would pick for myself. I could see the man he was going to become, and I loved that man. He was charming, aggressive, and wasn't out to please anyone. He was the only Slytherin that never tried for a teacher's approval. He never used the cunning he was so gifted with to receive anything he didn't absolutely need. That man would soon be mine to share my life with (weather I liked it or not, by the bye), but then something happened. The first day of lessons showed me someone I didn't know. He was no longer the fire-filled man I was hoping for, no, he was the shell of that enchanting sixteen year old, with nothing looking out from his eyes. He did perfectly on exams, but never held an intelligent conversation, he was charming, but never more was he enchanting. The old Draco was gone and I was left with this paper thin reproduction.  
  
"Pansy has been out of the studio for all of school year, but today she went back and was hailed as perfect." My mother gloated of my ballet performance. I put my heart into that class and I really was good. I had been in training since age five and had gone to an annual month of training in Russia during summer. For once my mother wasn't lying.  
  
"Draco has been a student of the Martrich academy for ages. Every Malfoy has been light on his feet and I intent to keep up the tradition." Mrs. Malfoy answered with cold civility. Anytime someone boasts in front of her she is quick to rally her defenses. Draco, in her mind, is the be all end all of children. In her perfect world Draco will be Minister of Magic, Prime Minister of Britain, Head of Hogwarts School, and President of several small countries simultaneously. Woe is the day that happens.  
  
"Perhaps these two would like to show off their skill?" Mr. Malfoy drawled. No matter how long he had been a frequent visitor in our house I never enjoyed him. The sound of his voice sent shivers up my spine, and not the sexy kind. Everyone said father and son were replicas, but I wondered how people could make such a mistake, they were fire and ice. I stand corrected, before, they were fire and ice, now they might as well buy identical igloos.  
  
Draco, without a word, offered his hand. I accepted, long ago deciding that if he wanted silence he would get it and if he ever decided to come back to the world, I would be there waiting for him to start a subject.  
The dance was as silent as all the dances before it and the hours in the common room before that, but this time I decided I'd throw him off and start talking, and not only talking, but flirting with him, just to see if I can get him say something, anything that showed me the real him was somewhere in that cocoon.  
  
We were close already so I decided to whisper in his ear, using all that womanly intuition gave to my disposal. "I've missed you Draco."  
  
He didn't say anything for a while, then he replied in a stale manner, not caring to whisper. "How did you miss me? We parted company on the train only last evening." You see? This was not the Draco I had grown up with.  
  
I might as well go on with this. If I wasn't going to be let into his heart, what could a little confusion do to a man always kept at arms' length? "No, I've really missed you Draco. I've missed you so bad. I'm just so lonely and cold." If I would have dared say this to the real Draco he would have slapped me and I would have said thank you. Draco never let me look stupid, or at least the real Draco didn't.  
  
A few measures of the song went by, then a reply. "If you're cold why don't I lend you my jacket?"  
  
I almost laughed aloud then. If a girl gave any breathing man an offer like that he'd have to be thicker than Dragon hide to not get the girl some champagne and rent a room for the evening. Apparently Draco and Dragon hide have a lot in common.  
  
"But what about loneliness? It's been so long Draco."  
  
We were waltzing near one of the servants doors, covered with velvet drapes to keep the opening hidden. Draco pushed me into the drapes and we came into the hallway between the ballroom and the kitchen door. I would have shrieked (hell, I might have for all I know,) from the sudden movement, but Draco had his hand firmly over my mouth.  
  
Once that was gone it was replaced with lips. It wasn't a firm or aggressive kiss, but a gentile hurried one. Our first kiss was something memorable, for sure, but it wasn't long. Draco soon broke it off and for a moment I just stared into his eyes. There was something behind his them again. The eyes themselves were swirling like thunderheads before a storm.  
  
He looked straight into my eyes and, in a voice I hadn't heard him use in the past year, he said, "You're beautiful and I l-" He stopped and so did the swirling in his eyes. Draco was gone, leaving only his vacant body. "-and I believe we should return to our parents."  
  
So we did. I was too preoccupied to argue with a brick wall. This was obviously more than I had expected.  
  
~~~ 


	3. fighting the current

A/N: I love the reviews! Also, I would like to say that I hate disclaimers and tend to forget them, so here it is. This isn't mine, except for the story. There, I said it. Trying to beak my sprit, aren't you?  
  
Read, review, enjoy  
  
P.S. I understand that Draco is a prick this chapter. He's got some growing to do, but the cynicism is here to stay. If you don't like Draco as an ass, you're reading to wrong character partnering.  
  
~~  
  
Well this was going to be painful. Dancing with Pansy always is. Hell, I won't lie, being in the same room with Pansy was somewhere near unbearable. No, I'm not playing the pompous aristocrat, you prats. Let me explain this to you before you go crying to your mother about the unfairness of the world.  
  
I've been all but betrothed to Pansy Parkinson (of the Derbyshire Parkinson's, as if you didn't know) since I was five. I even remember the day my father said something of it.  
  
"Draco, my boy, come here." My father said, shutting his book. "Draco, I've been in talks with Mr. Parkinson. Do you know of him?"  
  
"Yes sir, he owns eight of the banks we patronize in the orient." I said mechanically. Even at five I was being trained, just as a prince is, for my turn through the régime.  
  
"Yes and he has a daughter, Pansy. Do you catch my meaning boy?"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
And from then on it was concrete. Many things went under the current in my house. If you weren't careful you could be sold into service to the Queen and not know it till they came to collect you.  
  
Such was the way I got into this predicament, I'm sure. One moment I'm arguing with my father and the next I have to fight to get a word out. More bloody annoying than anything. I sound like such a prat all the time. I'm a life-sized doll with seven preset sayings. "Thank you." "Yes." "Glad to meet you." and other such witticisms. I hate to sound cocky, (Oh, wait, I don't.) but I'm the most captivating person in Slytherin and it's somewhere near I'm-going-to-slit-my-wrists when I can't say anything of my own free will.  
  
You see, this is why it is painful to be near Pansy. If you didn't realize, I love the girl and I want more than anything to tell her this git of a human being isn't under his own control. But I can't and she's too thick to think anything other than that I'm doing this purposely. She's shown me that by refusing to say anything to me. If I could only talk to her, just for a moment.  
  
Well, tonight, if I had been under my own influence, it wouldn't have mattered because Pansy was breath taking. She was overshadowing every woman in the room and that was her plan. That made it even better. When she knew she was the most beautiful in the room, it didn't matter if she wasn't because the pure charisma of her character made her glow with radiance anyway. The way of a Slytherin: If you're not, act like you are.  
  
Since my answers were automatic anyway I had taken to ignoring everything that was said. So when my hand shot out to Pansy's I was wondering what had happened, but when my feet took us waltzing, I figured it out, obviously.  
  
Pansy was lovely and it hurt me to see her so displeased, but soon I saw something cross her face that told me she would soon be less board, at my expense, I assumed.  
  
"I've missed you Draco." She purred into my ear.  
  
I was intrigued. Perhaps she had realized that I was no longer myself? Perhaps she had found out my secret. I fought to say something. I knew I could delay the answer of this, if I was obstinate enough. Which, believe it or not, wasn't as hard as it sounds. There was a warm, burning pain in my stomache that soon became so bad I lost concentration and this faux Draco answered in his stale manner. It knew nothing of the drawl I had prefected and cared nothing for my uninterested tone I had adapted. This made it hard to deliver the lines with the rude, but slick way I had come accustom to expressing myself; not that such brash and un-stylized things would sound good coming from anyone's mouth.  
  
"How did you miss me? We parted company on the train only last evening." If I had to be possessed, why must it be a moron?  
  
"No, I've really missed you Draco. I've missed you so bad. I'm just so lonely and cold." It was obvious she didn't have a clue. She was trying to bait me. She must have noticed something, because if she had dared say that to me, or even near me, I would have been very expressive on how dumb she had made herself look. at all costs I didn't let such a beautiful thing make herself look a fool.  
  
I tried harder this time, and the burning was more enraged. I worked myself till the burning became almost unbearable. The prickling, hot sensation like flaming needles being bored into my being. It wasn't just the stomach this time, but it was spreading to my chest. I thought another thought for one moment and I lost it. The burning stopped and my reply came.  
  
"If you're cold why don't I lend you my jacket?"  
  
"But what about loneliness? It's been so long Draco." She was trying to get me out and honestly, it worked. I was working as hard as a Malfoy can be expected to, under the conditions and finally, amidst the burning that made my eye sting and my chest burn, I felt something snap.  
  
I put my hand over her mouth. I was taking no chances on being heard. I pushed her into the velvet curtains that I was aware held the house-elves hall. I glanced into her eyes and saw no fear. She was more brave than the others, not in that noble way the Gryffindors were, but in a belligerent, bratty sort of way that made you notice she was an only child and princess of an empire, and expected to be treated as such in every situation. That only made me love her more.  
  
Once we were against the wall I stopped. The thought took me to kiss her. I confess it wasn't because I was so entranced be her beauty I couldn't help myself, or I though this was to most romantic way to give our first kiss. I did this for the fact that she may still have the impulse to scream, and, if I have any estimation of my powers as a lover, this would quell it and, as I've been told by my last girlfriend, would render her speechless.  
  
The kiss was more than I would have imagined. Yes, I've kissed before, but none have ever spread warmth through my body and made me light headed. I must say I enjoyed the experience and hoped to repeat it sometime. I could feel to snap start to repair itself so I ventured to cut the kiss short.  
  
I didn't know how to express what I had to say, but I didn't seem to need to think about it. Another impulse that was more forceful then the one that made me act the way I had for a year, but one that frenzied me and made it unnecessary to think of anything but Pansy's sweet kiss and her body being close to mine. This force spoke for me.  
  
"You're beautiful and I l-" The burning came back, but it felt as though someone had hit me in the back of the head. There was an excruciating, blinding pain and I haven't a clue what I said to her, but she was angry, a blind, deaf house elf could tell when Pansy was angry.  
  
There was a ringing in my ears the entire rest of the evening and a soreness in my neck. I didn't hear much, but the entire night I knew what I was about to say and normally I would be furious with myself for letting my guard down and saying something like that, but I knew it was true. 


	4. once crossed

A/N: So here is my new chapter. I hope you enjoy! Read, review, enjoy.  
  
~~~  
  
I stood on a pedestal, barley clad in thin underwear and a bra. This didn't bother me in the slightest, I was proud of my body. What did bother me was that my stylist was trying to tell me that going blonde would lighten my complexion. I wanted terribly to tell him to shove a Filibuster's Firework up a place not accessible to the naked eye. There were many at school (if that unsophisticated pile of stones could be labeled as such) that assumed I dyed my hair from blonde to my multihued chestnut. Why, I can't imagine, but no, I didn't. All of my hair was blissfully natural and I intended to keep it that way.  
  
"All right, but you'll never get the chance to show off that fantastic skin with so much hair."  
  
"I'll live." I sniffed, pertly.  
  
"Well, I suppose you'll want to avoid bright colors. Those dark eyes need to be accentuated, so I'll show you what to do with the charcoal I brought. Well, I didn't think you were going to go for it, and half of me was hoping you wouldn't so I could give you this." Max Vedicci went over to his small packing case, and unfurled an strapless, black satin sundress. It was short and the edging was done in pink. It was perfect.  
  
"I hope you're the same size, but you always keep fantastic care of your body, so I wasn't worried. I just thought of you one morning and this came to me." He stroked the satin and admired his own handy work, as any artisan secretly does.  
  
"It's beautiful Max. But pink?"  
  
"Trust me on this." He handed it to me. "Well, put it on."  
  
I stepped into it and pulled it up. It eased up my thighs and when Max zipped the back. I knew it fit perfectly.  
  
"Ah, just as I suspected. Perfect cut and shape. Your heritage does wonders for you. You're lucky. I believe you know Milliecent Bulstrode?" He chattered lightly while pulling a massive make-up case out of the bottomless bag he had brought. He pulled out a charcoal stick and his wand. "I was forced to turn down a regular set-up with her after a consultation. I just don't know what to do with her. She wasn't kind enough to have your parentage. If Narcissa Malfoy had married Mathew Bulstrode like that massive ring said she would, Millicent would have been much more beautiful. She gets her looks from her mother, and you know what that means."  
  
"Wait," I batted his hand away from my eye. "Narcissa was going to marry Mr. Bulstrode?"  
  
"She had the rock and everything. You could see your reflection in that ring from the other side of a room. If you'd care to see it, it's now resting on Maggie Bulstrode's fat knuckle, resized of course." He, seemingly done with my eyes turned to my nails.  
  
"What brought on the change in feelings?"  
  
He stopped filing for a moment. "Who knows. One day everyone's calling me for dress robes to wear at the wedding and the next they're changing their orders for the Malfoy wedding. A little more than nine months later and people are fighting to buy little Draco a present."  
  
He started to elongate my nails.  
  
"Right from Bulstrode to Malfoy? Just like that?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure they'll be a time when you'll be chasing diamonds. With my wardrobe it'll be soon. I hear you've got the young Mr. Malfoy himself on your leash."  
  
"Hardly."  
  
"You're on his?" He asked, truly perplexed. He knew was not one to be toyed with and if there was any toying to be done, I would be doing it.  
  
"Never. We've just, grown apart, that's all." I wasn't going to explain to him that Draco had lost his soul and I truly did love him. All he would do was spread it around to everyone in apperating distance.  
  
"Really? There are rumors out there that you two will be the next 'it' couple. Someone even said he's asked for the Malfoy engagement ring."  
  
I gulped, trying to ease my dry throat. "It would be news to me."  
  
~~~  
  
Soon after, Max left; presumably to spread gossip about the happenings at Hogwarts and my relationship with Draco. He is a fantastic stylist, but he really is pathetic. If he really wanted something juicy, he should have just waited and had tea with me.  
  
I was lazily stretched out on my couch, reading, being the epitome of 'all dressed up and nowhere to go'. The cavernous walls of books in my library were busy readjusting themselves by alphabetic order after my mother received a large order of books. Another misconception about the Slytherin line is that we buy our proffesors; if it were that easy we would have won the house cup every year over those damn dirty Gryffindors. No, we actually read and study, bastards. I also happen to enjoy reading. So the well-lighted room, covered with couches and over-stuffed chairs, smelling faintly of aged paper and spilled potion was one of my favorite spots, like a sanctuary for me.  
  
I was just sitting, and it felt like I was waiting for something to happen. That's why I was still in my outfit and why I hadn't washed off my make-up or turned my nails back into their natural state as I usually did. If something was going to happen, that something, or someone, was going to find me gorgeous and elegant, such as a Parkinson should always be.  
  
I felt an unnerving shiver up my spine and my eyes went out of focus for a moment. Lightheadedness claimed my mind. I dropped my book and tried to stand, groping for something to steady myself with. On watery legs I attempted to balance myself on my couch's arm. The smell of strong black magic filled my senses and this did nothing to comfort my dizziness. I was fighting something, I could feel it. Finally I felt a snap and the world came back into focus.  
  
It felt as if nothing had happened, but I knew something was wrong. The smell of black magic was still around me. Then I saw it, one full black rose fell to the ground. I walked slowly to it and the feeling of misused magic became stronger. When I held it in my hand it felt insubstantial, unreal almost. I turned it over in my hand and with a gust of perfumed air I looked up to see thousands of black roses fall from the ceiling.  
  
Of course any normal woman would be awed by such an act, but knowing this was just a magic trick, I wondered where the magician was. Soon the barrage stopped and before me a strip of parchment floated down. I snatched it out of the air.  
  
"The love of a rose is only skin deep,  
the love of a Pansy is a soulful one."  
~Faveo Maligo  
  
I was very much inclined to rip it to shreds, for I felt insulted. This man thought I could be beguiled by cheap parlor tricks and clunky play on words. Soon the object took my lack of sighing to heart and burst into warm tickling flames.  
  
I looked up from it only to be confronted with another black rose. The magician himself held this one, though I was doubting. It wasn't likely that this handsome seventeen year old could conger all this himself. You may be wondering how I knew this boy was seventeen, I'll tell you. He's my mother's second cousin's, aunt's great grandnephew. You see he's barley related to us yet still finds that occasional visits are a must. He stopped visiting when I was nine, soon after the talks subsided about Draco and myself. He should have stayed away.  
  
"Do you do that every time you come into a room, or is it reserved for occasions when you're especially unwelcome?"  
  
"Such unkind words still sound like music from your lips, dear Pansy."  
  
"Allez à l'enfer." I snarled as he tucked the rose into my hair.  
  
"In French it only sounds more enchanting."  
  
"Consider yourself lucky I don't have my wand, Faveo." I smack his hand away and took the rose out of my hair. The moment the rose came into my view I saw it do something very odd indeed, the rose turned red in my hands. I threw it at him.  
  
"For what to I owe this malice?" He asked, truly confused. As if he didn't know?  
  
I went to leave, but then decided not to. I turned to face him. "For what do you not deserve this attack? But my favorite reason is the letters Faveo, the letters." With that I sailed across the room, and slammed the door as though if I hurt the door enough it would translate into some sort of pain in Faveo. If he thought I would forget what he told me, he was sorely mistaken. A part of Parkinson pride is never forgetting once crossed. And the way Faveo had crossed me I will never forget. 


	5. Silver

A/N: Read, review, enjoy  
  
~Faveo~  
  
Pansy was still ravishing. It's hard to think she was mine at one point. That's right, she was promised to me, not that pale little priss Drano, or Dracula, or whatever idiotic name his parents cursed him with. You may be wondering how I happened to loose her; you and me both. All I remember was being packed off to my uncles house one night in the dead of winter. I didn't pick to go to Russia, where there were no beauties for my eyes to rest on like here in England. I didn't even pick to go to Drumstag, where none of my predecessors had gone, I wanted to go to Hogwarts with Pansy.  
  
I am unaccustomed to not having my say, so I really must say that I wasn't the best ward for my uncle. I was demanding, lustful, and irresponsible, but even through this he taught me the most useful of dark magic, most of these studies were to keep me out of the way and keep me amused, but I paid close attention so that one day I could get out an use my power to ensnare Pansy.  
  
You might wonder why I needed to ensnare her, with my natural good looks and captivating nature? Pansy is deeper than that, and all that deeper means for me is harder to keep a hold of. Being bred as I was I know all I need is a high born trophy wife to seal my place in the world and Pansy is the one I have chosen. Pansy's family is thick with magic meaning my male heir will be strong enough to not disgrace my name and perhaps become an asset to the dark one. Her beauty and ease with words will come in handy at dinners and gala events.  
  
You might think my way of thought is archaic and cold, but I know that it will not be unpleasant for Pansy once she gets far from that git Drake. My uncle has informed me that the rumor around London is that Drack and Pansy were once in love, but now the fire has dimmed. This means it is my turn to cut in. I have heard that Dunk is not the same as he was and will not fight my taking Pansy, my only road block are those blasted letters. I haven't a clue what she is talking of, but obviously they did not give me credit. If Pansy would stop being so dammed emotional. I'll have to break her of that.  
  
~~~  
  
I was roaming the Parkinson castle, trying to regain my bearings; you must remember I have not been here in ages, and also to appraise the collection of items that would soon be mine. The lamps looked like they could fetch a good price, for they might due for the Derbyshire manor, but never for the Peterborough house. Then again, we would be uniting our fortunes, so perhaps we could buy a Sea-side place to match the lamps? They were rather nice.  
  
While theses thoughts ran through my head I heard the subtle clomping of designer leather boots (the sound is unmistakable.) on fine Mongolian rugs. This was obviously not Pansy or Mrs. Parkinson. It must be the man of the house then.  
  
This prompted me to put the lamps down and turn to greet him. When I heard the swirl of a cloak coming closer I quickly dusted my shoulder and checked my teeth in the shining frame of an early portrait of Pansy. I was already half bent in a small bow when I saw who it was. I instantly righted myself.  
  
I knew little of the Malfoy line, but what I did know impressed me. If they had a daughter instead of this excuse for a man, then I might have claimed my lines to them and asked for her hand, but the boy was obnoxious. I had heard about his quick, biting wit and good looks; this made me hate him more than I already did. Anyone who dared try to take my trophy from me would have suffer.  
  
He tried to walk past me in the direction of the offices, but I put a hand to his chest, attempting to knock him backwards; I swear I saw him stumble a little.  
  
He tried to cover what I knew to be surprise at seeing such a handsome man in his lovers house. He hid it expertly. "Excuse me, but I am on an errand for my mother. I need to see Mrs. Parkinson expressly." This boy said stiffly, with the air of a man who knows he is speaking down to someone. He must not know who I am at all, or he is doing this out of jealousy. He must have heard of me.  
  
"I'm sorry, but Mrs. Parkinson isn't taking any callers. You'll have to talk to me," I took a small bow. "Faveo Maligo, Miss Parkinson's betrothed."  
  
Dunker didn't even flinch. He stayed stone faced and unmoved. I know underneath he was seething. For a few moments he didn't say anything, but then he seemed to compose his thoughts. "I'll file that away somewhere, but I need to speak with Mrs. Parkinson." his impertinence annoyed me thoroughly.  
  
"Are you thick? I said she wasn't taking any callers." I shoved him for effect.  
  
He, once again, didn't move. If someone called me thick I'd make sure they couldn't speak again. This time the reaction was a little quicker. "No, I assure you I am not, but that doesn't change the fact that for a Malfoy people always take callers. Now if you don't move I'll be forced to- "  
  
"-to what? You aren't welcome here anymore Dunky." I shoved him again. He didn't move, but I continued my rant. "Malfoy or not Pansy loves me, not you and-"  
  
Then there was blackness. I'm not sure what happened, but I'm sure he took a cheap shot. That is the only way to knock a Maligo down.  
  
~~~  
  
"Evigilo, we had an agreement. Faveo was not to come within a thousand paces of my daughter until she had the Malfoy wedding band on her finger and a gilded rattle in her hand!" Evita Parkinson said expressively to the green flamed fireplace.  
  
"Yes, and things change."  
  
"What has changed? Yes Draco seems more like his father, but he is in an awkward age! Pansy might like this version better!"  
  
"Haven't you been told?" Evigilo looked at her oddly. How could she have missed it?  
  
Something ineffable passed Evita's features. "Funny, he's been especially close-mouthed about things lately, particularly things having to do with my Daughter's fate." She said coldly.  
  
"Narcissa will have sent you a letter by now, I suggest you believe it."  
  
Evita just closed her eyes. "Evigilo, in the future, tell me anything having to do with Pansy and my family. Because if you won't, no one will." A tear slid silently down her cheek, streaking her make-up and dropping into the blazing green.  
  
~~~  
  
~Draco~  
  
There's a world outside of my head. I remember that much. I remember what it felt like to hold my head up and have everyone think I was intelligent and handsome. I remember what it was like to move with definition and do only what I wanted. I also remember what it was like to have Pansy by my side, even when my intelligence failed me, my complexion swayed, my hand faltered, and I didn't have a clue what I wanted.  
  
That's the memory that hurts the most, knowing she was there. There were days that I scorned her for hanging around. There were days that all I wanted was for her to look at me with her bottomless brown eyes. Even with my indecision, she stayed. Now, without being able to touch her or tell her what I would normally, it hurts like nothing I've ever felt. I think the one good thing to come out of this is that I have realized I really love her. Honestly and truly, which is something I am not often.  
  
It was in these thoughts I was wandering when my mother came sweeping in to my antechamber, where I kept my private library, in her silver, floor length traveling cloak.  
  
"Draco, I am forced to go on a few errands," 'Obviously, you're in your cloak.' I thought. "If you could please give this letter to Mrs. Parkinson by four." She handed me a letter with the thick green and black marbled seal of the Malfoys. Only when one looked closely could they see the details of dark artifacts held close to the death eaters.  
  
"I will go immediately, Mother." This bloke in my head answered for me, with a formality that I never used with my Mum. My mother, while handing it to me, looked slightly hurt. The ever astute observer noted it. "What is wrong mother?" What's with this guy and not using contractions?  
  
"Nothing, Draco. I was just remembering why I used to enjoy this cloak so much."  
  
I was truly intrigued. I pressed myself to say something, knowing the only answer that would be acceptable in this context. The burning returned, but it only last for a few seconds before I said. "Why?"  
  
"I originally bought it because it reminded me of your eyes." She looked deep into mine, though hers were softer than I think they have ever been. Traces of hurt and determination were mingled with the sheen of unshed tears. Or perhaps they had been shed? I saw thin streaks in her make- up that only ones who knew what he face looked like before the make-up on could notice. "Though now I wonder why I even purchased it," She turned to the door. "it bears no resemblance any longer."  
  
~~~  
  
With a thick plop I fell into the plush Persian carpeting that covered the granite floors of the Parkinson meeting room. It was an ungraceful, cracking fall that twisted my neck. I felt none of it, but only knew that it should hurt. I think this was more painful. It showed that my numbing was becoming more complete.  
  
I was left to mull over this on the long trail of winding halls into wherever Mrs. Parkinson was. If I was lucky, Pansy wouldn't be in my way.  
  
The fact that Malfoys are not known for luck hit me like a bag of bricks, or rather a hundred and ten pound girl.  
  
"Draco?" She said, blushing mildly. She looked wonderful. Her dark hair was framing her face in long, softly curled steaks.  
  
"Yes, nice to see you Pansy. I am here on an errand for your mother." Never more did I want something bad to happen to myself than now.  
  
"Oh, well, she's in the offices. You'll find her alone I suspect." Pansy said, looking at the ground. Then something changed and her eyes bored straight into mine. While I opened my mouth to reply she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me deeply.  
  
...  
  
...  
  
... you'll have to forgive me, I couldn't think of a thing to say, that's the effect Pansy has on me. She clears my thoughts of everything but her and I doubt you wanted to hear of her beauty, her intelligence, her wit, or her eyes, so I choose to say nothing. Choosing to say nothing right then to her may have been the dumbest thing I have done of my own free-will in record. This includes jumping off my balcony because I thought I could fly.  
  
She took my silence as an affront, I think, because she jumped to the side of me and ran down the hall. Yes, that will be the dumbest thing.  
  
~~~  
  
I felt his hand before I saw him. He, whoever he was, was a tall, gawky boy, with a big nose and pointed chin. I didn't know who he was and would have liked to keep it that way, but my body was planted to the floor and found it necessary to speak to this person.  
  
"Excuse me sir, but I am on an errand for my mother. I need to see Mrs. Parkinson expressly." If it had been me I would have just shot him to the side with my wand and walked along, not even attempting to excuse myself. He hadn't even spoken and I already hated him.  
  
With his huge, beaklike nose in the air he said, "I'm sorry, but Mrs. Parkinson isn't taking any callers. You'll have to talk to me," He took a small bow. "Faveo Maligo, Miss Parkinson's betrothed."  
  
My blood boiled. Betrothed? Please, she had just kissed me! It was then that pain shot at my heart; perhaps that had been a kiss goodbye? I fought to get something out, something biting, something harsh, just something! My heart and thoughts were going in so many directions I couldn't focus enough to say much, but a weak barb came out. "I'll file that away somewhere, but I need to speak with Mrs. Parkinson."  
  
He looked slightly surprised, he would have been a hell of a lot more surprised if I had been in charge. Scratch that. he wouldn't have had time to be surprised.  
  
"Are you thick? I said she wasn't taking any callers."  
  
What was this boy thinking? People don't talk like that to Malfoys, especially pissed off Malfoys. Now I had a focus. Also, I felt that whoever was in my head was angry too. "No, I assure you I am not, but that doesn't change the fact that for a Malfoy people always take callers. Now if you don't move I'll be forced to-"  
  
"-to what? You aren't welcome here anymore Dunky." He weakly shoved me. "Malfoy or not Pansy loves me, not you and-"  
  
Yes, I hit him. I'd have hit him a hell of a lot harder if I could have. Before he hit the ground my feet started me down the path to the offices, as if my body were scared I would kick him, which I would have.  
  
~~~  
  
Mrs. Parkinson was leaning on the main mantel, her head hung low, when I walked into the office. The round room, padded with dark velvets and several, matching, granite fireplaces placed at intervals to hold floo meetings.  
  
Mrs. Parkinson didn't bother to say hello to me, she only deftly split the seal and read the short note my Mother's hand had written that morning. She looked saddened and some what deflated. Her light blue eyes seemed to dim a little.  
  
She sighed and laid letter down onto the massive polished oak desk.  
  
"Will there be a reply?" My voice seemed to echo in the pressing silence.  
  
She looked up and seemed to awaken from what ever dream she had been having, but still didn't answer. She looked almost confused then something clicked. "Oh, You're dismissed. Is that what we need to say?" She said more to herself than anyone. This thing turned to leave, but Mrs. Parkinson called again. "Wait!" I faced her. "Draco, if you're in there, don't take this personally. It's just business. I know she loved you."  
  
A/N: If you haven't a clue what's going on, don't trip, that's how I want it. (If you do know what's going on, you know more than I do.) All will be resolved and the true problem will show itself soon. The reviews are wonderful and I love them, keep 'em coming. If you've got any predictions, send them too; I'd love to hear what you think!  
  
Lots of warm and fuzzies, Apolla 


	6. Bitter

A/N: Read, Review, Enjoy. P.S., Thanks to Recna Den Eres for helping me out with this chapter!  
  
Faveo is such an overbearing, chauvinistic, arse-backwards, he-should- be-kicking-his-own-shins-for-being-that-stupid, example of why you don't mix blood lines and marry cousins. Would he shut up and stop being so damned full of himself for one second? One moment of peace is all I require. Really, just enough to take a bath and dress without his roses, notes, bitter chocolates (never enough to get fat on, by the bye, because he would rather A.K. himself than have me gain an ounce. I want to get fat just so he'll leave me alone.), and moonlight serenades with his flat voice.  
  
Though my comments that first day might prove otherwise, I was never in love (or even in toleration, for that matter) with Faveo. The bastard enjoys thinking so, so why not humor him? That theory has bitten me in the arse, now hasn't it? He has thought that I was obsessed him since the moment he laid eyes on me. We were toddlers and he would insist on playing international delegate, and guess whom he told to order the dinner for the gala? Yes, that would be me. He decided I would be his wife from three years old and I played along. Then I met Draco.  
  
When talks started with Draco's family, Faveo left. I didn't ask any questions, all I knew was that he was gone and should stay that way. Soon after he left, though, he sent me a series of three letters, each saying the correspondence (which we didn't have) couldn't go on and that he hated me. That didn't bother me one bit, I didn't want to be within two hundred meters Faveo, but what did bother me was that in the third letter, he attacked me. He explained that he couldn't think of even associating with me because my family was shamed. I was a slut and my money was cheap. Insult me, okay; insult my family, you'll suffer. I sent him one back saying good riddance, I hope he chokes on something sharp. Judging by his sentiments a few days ago, he either didn't get it, or is thicker than dragon hide. I have the distinct feeling that it's a bit of both.  
  
He just waltzes into my home and expects me to fall, love struck, at his feet? He should think himself lucky he still has feet. He attacked my family's reputation and that is something not to be tolerated. I don't know what is going on with Draco, but I do know that no matter what I will not give him up.  
  
~~~  
  
The next morning, I stepped back into my room after showering and stood by my vanity. I picked up a guilt brush and began working it through my coarse hair. The moment I looked down for a ribbon, I wanted to hit something with my fists. Not one note from Faveo, but two. I threw down my brush, watching a diamond fly from it with small satisfaction, and opened the first.  
  
Dear Pansy, my love,  
  
You must be my escort to the ball this evening. I couldn't bear to touch another woman's hand, but your fair one. Find the dress of dresses, spare no expense, and meet me in the floo room at seven.  
  
Forever awaiting your beauty,  
  
Faveo  
  
P.S. Would you wear this favor? It would give me pleasure beyond what you know.  
  
I was filled with the cold feeling of hatred the moment I saw his handwriting. After I finished it, the note began to smolder and smoke. The small flames gave way to three intertwined silver chains connected to three blazing amber stones, and an emerald green card. I threw the piece of jewelry down, though this time nothing flew off, and read the back of the business card.  
  
I hope you enjoy the jewelry I have designed for you. When I heard of Mr. Maligo's want of a special surprise for you I just jumped at the chance to create something to don your exquisite neck, Miss Parkinson. There are three stones, your past, present, and future with Mr. Maligo, each with it's own mystery.  
  
Think of us in the future,  
  
Johnny Iris, maker of fine jewelry and amulets  
  
I tossed the card into my fireplace. Johnny Iris would do anything to have his merchandise on a rich family's daughter. I was tempted to throw the necklace into the flames as well, but I stopped. Iris was famous for having little quirks about his work; the thing could blow up a whole house if it wanted to. I doubted he'd try anything too experimental on a girl's necklace, but his reputation as an eccentric always got me.  
  
Now what ball was this for? I figured the answer was in the second note, so I opened that as well. It was not from Faveo, but from Lucius.  
  
Dear Miss Parkinson,  
  
You are ever so cordially invited to a ball this evening in the name of your esteemed guest and first suitor; Faveo Maligo.  
  
(It went on to name his accomplishments, most of which were not real, and the families that had also been invited.)  
  
Your gracious host,  
  
Lucius Malfoy  
  
I don't know how long I stood there, stunned, but the wave of emotions that followed almost knocked me off my feet. My eyes clouded with rage and tears. The only full thought I could get out was 'find mother'.  
  
~~~  
  
I did find her, but I also found I truth that I did not want to own to.  
  
She sat me down and explained what was happening.  
  
"Dear, you know what this invitation means." I nodded, keeping my mouth closed, for it was the only thing I could do to keep from crying. "You can't be surprised."  
  
"But I am," I yelled, fighting the tears. "They went back on their word!"  
  
"Yes, that's what people like us do. We don't do loyalty, we are Slytherins, all of us, to the bone. We fight against the systems that don't work for us, only to put up ones that do." She stopped for a moment and sighed. "It was a verbal contract. They planned it this way, honey. They're Malfoys, they fix the game."  
  
"But why?" The hot tears burned my cheeks.  
  
"Lucius has found a snag in his plan, now he's fixing it."  
  
"What was his plan?"  
  
"You'll find out soon enough."  
  
I stood, enraged that I was just a part of some sick game of chess. I always knew I was a bartering piece, but never has it worked against me in this way. "In the mean time, what am I to do? Marry Faveo." My mother didn't look me in the eye and I fell to my knees with the weight of that one gesture. One invitation and my world is crashing down. "I am, that's why he's here, isn't it? To collect me as his pay for being out of the way all these years? What better way of getting me out of Draco's sight? Sell me off to a Russian jackass." I laughed a bitter laugh that wasn't my own. "A brilliant plan mother. My gratitude to you, Lucius, and Draco for letting me see how full of shit everyone around me really is."  
  
My mother looked up with wet eyes as well. "This wasn't my plan Pansy, this wasn't the way things were supposed to happen."  
  
"Best laid plans of mice, men, and bastards mother." I got up and went to the door, betraying no emotion. "See you this evening." And shut the door.  
  
~~~  
  
I understood why this was happening. Being a part of our circle means you are related to everyone and can trust no one. You are cousins, you are aunts, you are uncles, you have all the bonds of friendship on the surface, you all have the bruises of enemies beneath. It is the curse of the blood running through my veins and through Draco's: loyalty is never ours. You owe loyalty, you never bestow it, and you only owe it to two people, yourselves, and the dark wizard of your day. We are a new species, you see. We are not ruled by a monarch or a minister. We are ruled by self-interest, etiquette, and blood; and there are only two kinds of blood swirling in our melding pot, pure blood and spilled blood. Well damn etiquette, damn loyalty, and praise self interest. I am going to do things my way now and heaven help anyone who gets in my way.  
  
~~~  
  
Blaise  
  
"If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, never ever do this to your eyelashes! Honestly! Blaise, you have hair! You have fantastic vibrant eyes! Please tell me you did not touch your eyelashes with that thing!" Max yelled, pointing accusingly at the dark black wand of eyeliner.  
  
"Max, I'm not an infant, I can use eyeliner myself. Besides," I drawled. "Pansy Parkinson does the same thing and she is your clientele." As much as it pains me to say, Pansy does have impeccable taste and uses her Gringotts allowance well, but my mother has given me my own allowance and I refuse to be second at this monumental ball.  
  
"You are an infant! Please, Pansy uses this because of her impeccable skin and flawless eyelashes. You, on the other hand, have those pretty little red things that need this." Max whipped out a clear wand with sparkling fluid inside.  
  
"If you're going to wear my dresses, you will wear my make-up as well. My designs are never done halfway." He said, plucking hair from my eyebrows, with more force than necessary, for every syllable.  
  
"I pay you good money, Max; I don't need this." I said flinching as he roughly curled my lashes.  
  
"And so do hundreds of other girls, all going to this event. They all put up with me and don't complain."  
  
"Even dear Miss Parkinson?" I said tauntingly. She is obviously Max's favorite. Her styles are the ones people see then ask Max to duplicate.  
  
"Bitter? Just because Pansy has enough natural style to not have to be told simple rules, like you do. Now get into that dress, it may need alterations."  
  
"Are you implying I have no style?" The thing did not just say that to me.  
  
"Yes, now, please, get into the dress, I have other appointments-"  
  
I cut him off. "I am paying you to insult me?"  
  
"No, you're paying me to make you look good, but that's proving to be a harder task than outlined. Good bye." He packed up his things and hopped into the fireplace. Just as he left, Marcy Blackmode, my older, Ravenclaw, cousin, came in.  
  
"Where did Max run off to? I wanted to see if he could put a little flair on my dress."  
  
"He insulted me and ran off." I snarled, oh I hate it when I snarl, it makes my mouth look so unappealing.  
  
"Really?" She asked, pulling a stray piece of jet black hair behind her ear. "I've never heard of him running out like that, he's usually very dependable. I wonder if it isn't too late to get you another stylist?" She said, holding up her elegant hand to snap for a house elf.  
  
"I don't need another stylist for what I want to do. I can look ravishing myself." I said firmly.  
  
"Don't tell me you're going for Draco." She sighed. "He's only been on the market for twelve hours." Marcy fell into one of my plush chairs.  
  
I just stared for a moment. Really how is she a prefect? "Well obviously! I'm not getting this beautiful for Marcus Flint." I shuddered at the mere thought. Then I regained myself. "I know he's wanted out of that relationship for ages. And as you know when a family that has gone into talks with another family for betrothal holds an honor ball for the betrothed's first suitor, it means they relinquish the marriage promise. There by leaving the former bartering pieces to fall into a more prosperous marriage."  
  
She looked at me for a moment. "Blaise, how do you get the grades you do?"  
  
"Hon, if Hogwarts were finishing school, I would be head girl." I smiled and turned back to my vanity to finish my make-up.  
  
"Faveo was Pansy's first suitor? The poor girl."  
  
"He is a beast isn't he? His parents were the first to approach Pansy's. She doesn't remember this, but they were betrothed for a few years, then Draco came in." I slid into my dress to see how it looked and had Marcy button the back.  
  
She sighed as she buttoned. "I know etiquette states it to be so, but are you sure it's done between them? Perhaps it's just a plot by his father- "  
  
"Don't be silly, you just worry about your dress and I'll worry about mine. Maybe I'll stop by and see Pansy for a moment, just to see how she's carrying on. To be dumped by the most handsome boy in school must be awful." I giggled. It is so refreshing to see Pansy in pain. You see she's been my rival. Every date she had, every pair of shoes she owned, I wanted them. Now I can have what she wishes to have. I can rip her heart out and stomp on it (and oh how I want to). Nothing is so sweet as revenge. 


	7. A river

A/N: Yes, I'm a dead-beat, what of it? Beware, he's not committing suicide, he's just a touch desperate. And no, I will never give up any of my stories. If any of you read 'Are you all bloody mad' I will be posting soon. I've got half a chapter done, I'm just trying to come up with a good transition. Sorry! Hope you like this chapter!  
  
Read, Review, enjoy  
  
~~~  
  
Draco  
  
There are certain things every human needs; and we are all humans. Witch, wizard, warlock, we are human deep down with human emotions; dreams; and needs. Without these we are no better than dolls. Mindless, not able to create a connection with anyone. Needs vary. Air, food, sun; these are needs of the body. I am talking of needs for the soul. Some people are so flooded with love, they need only to give it. Some are so flooded with hate, they do the same. Souls strive for things. So far I have been able to stifle my own soul's needs, but now I don't know.  
  
I know there are outside things attacking my own will, but now I feel another presence. I feel a soothing burn behind my stomach, like a humid swell before the real storm. I feel the waves churning and the monsoon coming. Soon in might blow me through...through what, I don't know, but I know this door is there; weather it be good or bad tidings, I know not, but I know of it's existence.  
  
The door creaked open; my body hesitated for a moment, and looked toward the door of my inner-chamber. So far, after my painful trip to the Parkinson Mansion, I had done nothing but pace my bedroom. I began to wonder if eventually the wear on the stones would dig me down to Australia.  
  
"Many apologies," It was the high, squeaky voice of Wobbner, my father's personal house elf. "your father wishes that you reads this." He handed me a folded piece of paper with the family seal. "He also bids me to gives you these." He produced a pack of cards. "He wishes you to stop pacings and plays with these for your pacings gives him a headache." He bowed a low bow, shaking, and left.  
  
I opened the frail card and suddenly my knees felt weak, my stomach turned upside-down, and my head felt lighter than ashes in the wind. The weight of that note pulled my stiff knees into submission. A storm was brewing, and this was just the beginning.  
  
~~~  
  
Blaise  
  
People never see past a name here. It only matters who's married whom and what family disowned another. I say Blaise Zambini and no one hears the first part. I am just a Zanbini. New money in-breeds with their main income from Indian trade. I saw this recognition when I found my way to the Parkinson door.  
  
"Let me see if my mistress is about." The human servant made a small bow and apperated away. I made a mental note that I was going to make this man bow a hell of a lot lower when I was Lady Malfoy.  
  
I wandered into the entry hall. It was the normal sort, marble floors, the family seal hidden in a gilt sunburst, paintings of family members; very ordinary. I was busy checking the state of my teeth in a vase when I heard that unmistakable noise of stilettos on marble.  
  
"Bemberry, have you seen my father?" It was Pansy in the morning parlor.  
  
"No, I haven't, sorry Mademoiselle. I believe he has gone to speak with the Bulstrodes; but if you will, you have a visitor, a Miss Blaise Zambini."  
  
"Thank you Bemberry, though from now on- until the ball- I am not in. I have an appointment and preparations need to be made. Make sure that Mr. Maligo is not within forty feet of my room." Hmmm... this was a bit of news. So she didn't look with a keen eye on her, most likely, future husband. No wonder, he was thicker than the marble I was standing on.  
  
"I will inform that house elves." Bemberry answered.  
  
I heard Pansy sigh. Her stilettos found their way into the room with their thin click-clack. As I looked at them I wanted to wring her elegant neck! I wanted those! They were the Italian patented dragon hide Avadas!  
  
"Ah, hello Blaise!" She said with her plastic smile. "I expected you were going to be getting ready for the ball."  
  
"Well, you know what they say; natural beauty takes no time at all."  
  
"I remember quite fondly the hours before the Winter ball that you spent in agony attempting to get ready." She smiled again. I wanted to slam those stilettos into her eyes.  
  
"Ah, so you have the new Avadas. I was just going to pop over to Florence to get my own pair."  
  
"Oh, these? Yes, I got them last Christmas."  
  
"Last Christmas? You must be confused. It is so easy when you have to spend so much money on looking good. They only were released three weeks ago."  
  
"Oh yes, I forgot. My cousin is a designer at Avada; She gave me the prototype for Christmas. Would you like to adjourn to the parlor?"  
  
~~~  
  
Draco  
  
I've always been told to never say never; that things have a way of changing on you. People can cheat you, prophecies can be reevaluated, and you can always step in. I suppose you should never say always either. I said I would always be in charge of my fate, that destiny had no place in my life. Well, taking recent things into consideration I suppose that's all gone to shit, hasn't it?  
  
I had few aspirations in life. One of them was to get married to someone who actually loved me, and whom I loved back. I knew this was rather ambitious looking at the world around me. Then I found Pansy, and I found who she was, and what she was past her name and station. Past the bloodline and the treaties. She was just the person I wanted beside me at the endless balls and the person I wanted to protect me from the lusts of our world. I saw my future with her beside me. I would always be with her. This was what I wanted, what I still want.  
  
Now it's been torn away by a frail creme colored card. I had always thought a sword would be the only thing to tear me away from my dream. Never say always.  
  
~~~  
  
Blaise  
  
Pansy sat in a throne-like velvet chair. Their ebony coffee table reflected the red roses in the garnet studded vase. It was like one of the portraits in the entrance hall. She was the queen of her lair, ruling over her parlor with an iron fist. I would soon dethrone her.  
  
"I confess, the reason I came here was to wish you sympathy." I said as sweetly as I could.  
  
"Really, what for?" She answered, she must be reigning her feelings.  
  
"You must think I'm a simpleton not to know." She kept up a look of confusion. "Your parting from Draco."  
  
She faltered, then regained herself. "Parting?"  
  
"Well yes, I know he wanted out, but, well, once that invitation came I knew it was concrete. What a catch to get robbed of, but of course, now you have Faveo."  
  
"Well yes, We have found that our engagement didn't suit."  
  
"Well I always saw it coming. Te way he talked when we were alone! You can do much better. I mean he is rich and handsome, but he was far from loving you." I smiled again, I could see her confidence wearing away. Her queenly state was beginning to crumble. I got up and began to walk around, circling her chair, patting her arm.  
  
"I'm sure you'll start to take this as a blow to your ego. I mean, by the invitation he is saying that you aren't good enough for him, but really; we both know that's not true," I bent beside her head and whispered, "You really aren't good enough for him." I circled to the other side of her head. "Who would connect themselves with your family? I've heard about all those sly deals." Switching ears again I could almost hear the tears welling. "He told me what he thought about you; he told me that you were a slut, a charlatan, a prostitute ready to sleep with him for his money." I saw her eyes glisten when I sat in front of her on her coffee table. I took both her hands in mine. "I didn't believe it Pansy, you know I wouldn't, but the way he spoke, it felt like daggers! I thought you might like to know, though there's nothing you can do now. He'll go crawling into the arms of some tart, not worth half as much as you. He'll find out what he's missing soon enough." If only they gave Oscars in Britain for social performances.  
  
I let go of her hands and took a lengthy stroll around the room back to the sofa I began on. "Of course that's what you get for having a verbal contract. Love or no love, a written contract is a written contract. I hope you don't make that mistake with Faveo, he's quite a catch."  
  
She cleared her throat, "Well, thank you for your sympathy, though I might say I hardly need them. I'm glad I'm out, now I have Faveo and my prospects are bright. He's a Baron in Russia, he'll take care of me very well. Now I need to get ready for the ball, as do you." She got up to show me out to the entry hall.  
  
~~~  
  
Draco  
  
I'm bleeding, I can see that well enough. I did it myself. I figure, now I've got nothing to loose. My father doesn't know the kind of magic I know; if he did, he wouldn't have given me that pack of cards. I've never done this before, and I doubt it will work, but just the same, I have already taken out the ace of spades, I have forced my hand, through the burning, to take up a razor. I have willed myself to cut my upper arm, a jagged red line. The sensation of ripping flesh I now only feel in the hand that holds the razor, but pain that should be shooting up my arm, the agony which would follow such an act, does not come.  
  
I can see the blood flowing down, like a slow, crimson waterfall. I know it should hurt. I know I should cry out. I know the pain of severed muscles, I've had it before, but I don't say anything. I don't cry out. It doesn't hurt. I just watch the blood run down my arm like an external vein. It goes in an ever twisting spiral, winding down each slim, tapered finger and falls in five equal droplets. As they landed the sound of their slamming into the card began beat in my head. Like a tribal drumming it spoke volumes. With every beat it said "Death, death, death, death,". I knew whom it was talking about as well. It is who I had hoped. The person who caused all this mischief, the reason I am slowly turning mad. He will be dead by this evening.  
  
Just then I heard an unearthly screech that shattered my reverie and stopped the drumming. It was my mother.  
  
She wasted no words. She healed my wound, and bound me. That was when I blacked out.  
  
~~~  
  
Narcissa  
  
"You said it wouldn't hurt him." I yelled at my husband, that bastard. He assured me that there wouldn't be any pain to Draco. He lied to me! He must be behind Draco trying to killing himself.  
  
"Yes, yes I did." He said with that irritating drawl. I hated when he spoke. I hated when he looked at me. I even hated when he touched me.  
  
"Don't feed me that shit Lucius. You didn't see what I saw in that room. There can be no other explanation."  
  
"Yes there can; he's inherited your family's intelligence." He took a shot of his sherry, though I doubt that was what it was, and grimaced, the closest I'd ever seen to smiling from him.  
  
"You're killing your heir, Lucius. We can't have another, this is your only chance." What was he thinking of?  
  
"This cannot be our only chance. There will be more." He answered nonchalantly.  
  
"God saw fit to only see us this one; beside the fact that even if, by some miracle, we had another-"  
  
"No!" He snarled, expressing his anger physically by throwing his sherry glass into the fireplace. The blaze came up to meet it and inhale the alcohol. It produced a frightening effect on Lucius' countenance, his sallow skin being lit by the biting flames. If I were younger I would have been scared, but I was old and haggard now; wise in the ways of my forsaken husband. I am done being scared of him and his manipulation. He can do what he will to me, but my son will no longer be slave to his dreams of glory and riches. "Do not speak to me of God and miracles. I have seen none of him, and I don't need him! He has left me with nothing. I now refuse him. I am now in charge. Once we are done with this affair, I will be God! I will be God on earth. I will also have an heir worthy of my empire." He was truly mad. He was absolutely spare! He was going to kill his heir, forsake his God, and surely die. He doesn't know what he's getting into.  
  
"Are you bloody mad? You cannot stop Voldemort without your soul. If you don't remember, you sold your soul for Draco; for him to have this potential." I snarled right back. He had done so much for Draco to be who he is now.  
  
"Yes, and it failed. Thus the contract is null and void." He said trying to regain the regal look that had fallen, though his act was lost on me, I had seen him with little more than his wand to keep up the charade.  
  
"This is not a game you can fix Lucius; these- these- people-" I spat, though you could hardly call them that. "-they are not the kind you can cheat. Cheating the Devil is something left to the angels." I took a step toward him, trying to use all of my five foot-nine inches.  
  
"Narcissa, they made an agreement and went back on it."  
  
"Yes, and there's no way to change it now. He's a teenager and you've already promised your soul. One without a soul cannot take over the world."  
  
"I don't mean to take over the world, you miss understand me my dear. I mean to kill everyone in it except for the pure-bloods. When you kill everyone, you can hardly call that taking over the world." He said calmly.  
  
"Beside the fact, you cannot kill Draco, and you know this. That is why you haven't attempted it. He will kill you, it is only a matter of time- " He took this moment to slap me, though it stung, it was nothing compared to the crushing feeling of dread. He would kill my son. He would have him dead as soon as he took power. If he couldn't kill him, he would have someone else kill him. I knew who that would be.  
  
~~~  
  
Pansy  
  
What the hell was she talking about? She was dribbling on and on about Draco wanting out, about Draco not loving me. I know she just wants to get under my skin. I know she's always wanted what I have...but... what if what she's saying is true? That he didn't love me? That he doesn't now? All this came with the tears I so dearly wanted to stay away.  
  
I leaned against the cool marble walls, trying to cool my face; almost trying to see if I could become part of the wall and live the rest of my life as a marble slab; it would come out a whole lot better than the way things were going now.  
  
As I began to wonder just how long things would go before I got my wish, the front door opened. It was my father.  
  
"BEMBERRY! BEMBER-" He yelled, but stopped when he saw me. "What are you doing there?" He asked harshly.  
  
I straightened up immediately and began to walk towards the stairs. "Nothing, just going to get ready for this evening." I said quietly, mounting the first stair. He pulled me back by my shoulder, making me stumble backwards.  
  
"Are you physically hurt?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Then you need to get your Max to make sure you don't show anything like tears this evening. I don't want to see you anything but charming and unaffected this evening." He took me by my shoulders and peered into my eyes. "Be attentive to Faveo, ignore the Malfoy boy. We've still got a hand to play Pansy, you won't mess this for me!" He shook me. I could feel his grip bruising. If he kept this up I would end up passing out. "Now, if anyone richer or more powerful than a Malfoy asks you to dance you better damn well say yes."  
  
"Whose more powerful than a Malfoy?"  
  
"Like I said, stick to Faveo." He finally let go, but saw my watery eyes. He sighed and rubbed his head. "Dear, there is no need to care anymore for that Malfoy brat; Faveo can provide for you very well. You won't need to curb your shopping. There's nothing to be worried about."  
  
I wanted to scream and curse at him! To think I was only worried about shopping! Forget for a moment I have just lost the only man I have ever cared for. Forget the fact that I have had to put up with a shell of a lover for some unknown reason, and even forget that I have worked, worked harder than a house-elf on Dragon's powder to become the sort of witch that Voldemort would be proud of just so Draco and my father would approve of me, and he thinks all I care about is that I might have to give up a few trips to Milan? Oh hell! Oh my bleeding hell! Has this man no sense?  
  
"Now Pansy, I suppose you need money for your appointment with Max?" he began to dig in his trousers for his purse.  
  
So this wouldn't be any different from the others. I would don the cold mask of indifferent refinement; I would be charming, beautiful, but nothing memorable or clever. I would be a mere doll in a case. To be admired, but never interacted with. I suppose I should get used to it; I will be doing for sometime as Mrs. Maligo.  
  
~~~  
  
Narcissa  
  
I will no longer be the doll in a case; set out on display. I have ignored myself and my son long enough. I will no longer be ignorant and go along with whatever anyone else says. The time has come. My husband has gone mad, my son is in danger, and I will not standby like a helpless lamb. The blindfold is off; out comes the wand. 


End file.
